


Morning Cummute

by monsterfucker



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Come Marking, F/M, Possessive Behavior, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Train Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-17 11:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterfucker/pseuds/monsterfucker
Summary: For the prompt: Bellamy has a kink that involves coming on unaware strangers. He sees Clarke in a public place and has to mark her with his come, maybe sits behind on her a bus and wanks onto the back of her leggings or in her hair?





	Morning Cummute

**Author's Note:**

> Be a bro and heed the tags.

Blondie rides the train with him. A professional something-or-other. She wears blouses and blazers, full contour and MAC lipstick. She has the newest iPhone, a different Coach bag for every day of the week. It’s weird to meet someone with his same schedule, twelve-hour days, starting at seven in the morning and heading home after dark. The first time he saw her, she smiled at him before looking away. That was how he knew she wasn’t from around here, maybe moved in from the midwest looking for work, sweet country girl in the big bad city. He knew, then. Knew she was his.  
  
The first time he does it, it’s the early morning rush and the entire train is packed. She’s in front of him, her back pressed against him, ass squeezed in her little beige pencil skirt grinding against his hips. Part of him wonders if she’s doing it on purpose. He grips the rail above him with one hand and unzips his fly with the other. He pulls his cock out and lets it rest against the small of her back. Every jolt and slight rocking of the car pushes her closer to him, gets him harder. He closes her eyes and smells her hair. Strawberries, light perfume. He can hear the tinny sound through her earbuds — pop music, a morning playlist, he bets. She seems like the kind of girl to make a playlist for every part of the day. She’s holding a Starbucks cup in one hand, her phone in the other, arm hooked around the rail.  
  
She doesn’t hear him when he lets out a groan by her ear. Doesn’t even turn around when he starts intentionally shifting his hips against her ass. She’s in her own little world. Part of him wants her to turn around, see his exposed cock, hard and leaking just for her. He bets she’d flush bright red and look away, and even if she hated the sight of him, she wouldn’t be able to get him out of her head all day.   
  
His breath speeds up. The car jostles her forward. She loses her balance, nearly topples her coffee (fucking tourists), and he politely catches her arm so she doesn’t drop what’s probably some kind of triple shot extra foam monstrosity. She regains her balance and turns her head halfway toward him with a small smile of thanks. He wants to push her onto her knees and come on her face.   
  
Her stop is coming up. The cheap polyester scratches unpleasantly against his cock. He glances down and sees that he’s already stained her with glistening streaks of precome, all the way up to the navy blouse tucked into her skirt. Just the friction of her ass isn’t doing enough for him, so he shoots a quick glance around to make sure no one is paying attention to him, grasps his cock, and jerks it shallow and fast. The train starts to slow at the stop, people beginning to rustle, ready to get off. His heart pounds. He’s so close. Blondie shifts her weight to her other foot, and for a second he thinks she’s really about to turn around, strike up a conversation, but it’s a false start. Still, the thought alone is enough to tip him over. He looks down as he comes, watches the streams of white shoot out onto her skirt and blouse. Another thick gob comes out of him when he imagines everyone seeing it, her having no idea as she walks several blocks to the office, sitting in her desk chair and finally wondering what that wet feeling is on her back. The humiliation. The disgust.   
  
Now she’ll always be his.

Later, if she suspected it was him who did it, she gives no indication. He knows he’s easy to miss, and she doesn’t seem like the type of person that pays much attention to her whereabouts anyway. Spoiled girl, never having to watch her six. Her eyes look so trusting, so innocent. Like no one has ever done her wrong. Pure as springwater. That’s why he loves her.   
  
The next few days, she keeps her shoulders shrugged up, looks around constantly, pushes her way to a seat as soon as she can. He wants to laugh. At night, she normally drifts off and closes her eyes. Not anymore. He watches as her lids droop and her head falls to her chest before snapping back up again.   
  
Then one night, the stars align. Not only has she fallen asleep, but they’re the last two in the entire car, and she has five stops to go. The thrill of it gets him hard fast, as fast as he did when he was a kid and a slight breeze could give him a chubby. He unzips himself as he makes his way toward her, and by the time he’s reached her, his cock is fully out and he’s groping it in his fist. He doesn’t have much time, and he’s probably going to get caught. Whatever. It’s worth it.   
  
He hovers over her, tip of his cock poised less than an inch away of her plush lower lip, jaw slightly slackened, earphones in. He wishes he could come all over her, in her hair, on her tits, of which he currently has an amazing view, blouse unbuttoned down to her cleavage, camisole riding so low he thinks he can see the top of a nipple. He has to make this one count.   
  
The first pulse hits her upper lip, right on her mole. Somehow it’s not enough to wake her up—must be working hard at the office. The rest of his load follows, hits her cheek, gets in her mouth, drips onto her tits. He’s not a monster; he tries to avoid her eyes, knows it stings like a bitch and ruins your makeup.   
  
She gasps awake bringing a hand to her face, feeling the wetness there, eyes focusing as she looks at the hard still-pulsing cock just inches from her face. She trails her gaze up and meets his eyes, and he gives himself one more second of her pretty pale face covered in his come, dripping down all over her crisp expensive outfit. She looks at him wide-eyed like she hasn’t registered what happened, like she can’t put the pieces together. He wants to roll the dollop of jizz on her chin up to her lips, slot his thumb in her mouth and let her suck on it while he tells her how beautiful she is, how much he wants nothing more than to own her. But he can’t. He’s moving too fast, tucking himself into his pants and dashing out the opening doors, even though he has six more stops until home.

It kills him, but he tries to avoid her after that. Doesn’t need the police involved in his little hobby. He wakes up extra early to get on a different train, and stays late at work to take the last one home. So he’s surprised, weeks later, when he sees her on the early-early train. And he’s more surprised when she locks eyes with him and stares at him from a few seats down.   
  
As they approach the city, he gets up and gives his seat to a pregnant woman. Blondie is already standing two poles away. No coffee today. No earbuds. Her phone isn’t even in her hand. She’s just staring at him, wearing a pleated skirt that looks a couple inches two short for an office, and a button-up shirt. Her hair is in braided pigtails. It’s so pseudo-schoolgirl, he thinks she must do something one step above menial in fashion. Writes copy or run some big brand’s social media accounts, hopes to one day design something for a runway that’ll end up en masse on the clearance rack at JC Penney.   
  
She’s staring so intently at him that he has no choice but to look away. At every stop, the car fills with more people, but instead of moving away from him, she lets the crowd push her closer and closer, until she’s nearly chest to chest with him, looking up at him, and he can’t escape her gaze. His hand is clenching the handle above so tightly he thinks he might rip it off.   
  
“Let’s see it,” she says to him. Her voice is raspier than he imagined.   
  
He ignores her, tries to look out the window. She’s not holding onto anything, but the car is so packed with people that there’s no way to fall. She reaches for his belt and starts to unfasten it.   
  
He grips her wrist and squeezes it. “What are you doing?”  
  
“This is what you like, isn’t it? Pulling your cock out in front of all these people?”  
  
“Stop it.”  
  
She yanks her wrist out of his grip, and just when he thinks she’s going to move away from him, she reaches around and plucks his wallet from his back pocket. He makes a grab for it, but she’s too fast, jerks it away from him and opens it.   
  
“Bellamy Blake," she reads from his license, and hands it back to him.   
  
He plucks it out of her grip and tucks it back into his pocket.   
  
She steps closer. He can feel her tits pressed against his chest. She reaches up on her toes and says in his ear, “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to the police.” When he doesn’t respond, she grabs his crotch in her hand. “You’re not even hard yet. Pathetic.”  
  
His brain has skidded to a stop. If they were alone, he’d pull her hair and bring her to her knees. Bite her until she bleeds. Shove his cock so far down her throat she chokes. But he knows this game. He’s played it for years. Nothing above the chest. That’s what gets noticed. Everything below, preferably below the belt, gets ignored.   
  
“Turn around,” he hisses, takes her by the hip and spins her until her back is to him. Then he lifts the back of her skirt and slots two fingers between her legs. Her panties are plain cotton with a sopping wet spot at her crotch. Nearly dripping for him. Definitely his girl. He whispers in her ear, “Fucking soaked for me, baby.”  
  
She gives a slight nod.  
  
“You really want my cock? Right here, in front of all these people?”

She nods again, and he tugs her underwear down just below her ass, slips his fingers between her legs and parts her swollen wet lips.   
  
“Cunt’s so tight. Want me to break you wide open? Think you can take my whole load in this tiny pussy?”   
  
“Hurry up,” she says snidely, but there’s a desperation to her voice that goes straight to his cock.  
  
She’s right—her stop is only a few minutes away. He pulls his cock out and slides it between her legs, lets her cunt and his precome slick him up. Then he positions himself at her entrance and pushes in.   
  
Her cunt flutters around his cock. He fucks into her shallowly, finds a rhythm amid the rocking of the train. She pushes back against him. He brings his hand to her front and flicks at her clit, bends his knees a little to get a better angle, and he must find it, because she cries out and covers it with a cough, which flexes her pussy and makes him fuck into her so hard she nearly falls over. She holds onto his forearm. He’s sure the people closest to him have caught on, if not from their closeness and movement, then the smell.  
  
He doesn’t care. All he wants is to come in his girl, mark her from on the inside.   
  
“Gonna fill you up, sweetheart. How’s that feel, huh? Had me on your back, your face, now you get to carry me inside you all day long.”  
  
From over her shoulder, he can see her chest rise and fall quickly. Under his hands, she tenses. Her clit is hard and slick, and when the first shudder rolls over her body, he lets go of the handle and grips her hip to keep her from collapsing. Her pussy throbs around him. He thrusts into her as deep has he can go. When he comes, her cunt seems to squeeze every drop out of him.   
  
The train comes to a stop. The doors open. He slips out of her and quickly tucks his wet softening dick back into his pants. Instead of pulling her panties back up, which would be too easily noticed, she wiggles her hips and they fall down to her knees and around her ankles. Then she steps gingerly out of them and walks off the train without looking back.  
  
He bends down and snatches them up. Pink things, soaked in her come. His.

**Author's Note:**

> Monsterforker on twitter and tumblr.


End file.
